Voldemort Resurgant
by White Knight1
Summary: How a single wizard who has fought Voldemort before prepares to again


Two dark, cloaked figures silently prowled down the deserted alley in the middle of London. One   
was tall and thin, the other noticeably shorter and thicker, but both walked with an identical sense of   
purpose. Any bystander who happened to catch a glimpse of them suddenly remembered that they had to   
make dinner, go to the bathroom, or some other trivial thing that the weak-minded think important. Making   
one final turn into a shadowy by-way at the edge of the metropolis, the shorter of the two men glanced at   
the other, then, shuddering with fear even as he did so, asked a question:  
"Master…do you really think we have to do this. Not that I doubt your judgment," he added   
hastily, "but this seems more likely to ally some of their factions against us, rather than send them   
scurrying in fear once again. I know you want something visible, something dreadful, to rock them back on   
their heels again-and you're right-but this is TOO visible, TOO…outright. I don't…"  
The second figure straightened, and his eyes-blood red- flashed with malice and perhaps   
amusement. Although his voice was no more than a whisper, the sheer evil that weighed upon every word   
was tangible. High-pitched and cold, his words carried to his confederate as clearly as if they were in a   
grave, not a bustling city.  
"Ahhh, Lucius, my slippery friend, you are too naïve. Already those idiots at the Ministry are   
rallying, hiding behind their best Aurors and strongest wizards. The Potters are the perfect target.   
Dumbledore himself thinks that they are safe…and when I kill them the blame will ride firmly on Sirius   
Black, if all goes to plan. My little traitor will be outside suspicion," he paused, as if organizing his   
thoughts, "while some of my strongest opposition will be eliminated from the game. All those soft fools   
will remember once again that NO ONE is safe from Lord Voldemort. No one. They have forgotten…they   
will pay. Besides, Lucius, James Potter was a thorn in my side even in my days at Hogwarts. Killing him   
will be a pleasure, nothing but."  
Lucius opened his mouth, then closed it, evidentially thinking better of it. An almost imperceptible   
shrug rippled the black robes he wore. Voldemort, seeing these reactions, smiled the smile of a vicious   
predator who knows that his prey has fallen right into his hands. After a few minutes of silent travel, Lucius   
finally mustered the courage to speak again, asking,  
"What if this whole thing is some trap, my lord? With Crouch in command of the ministry, such a   
thing really is possible. They could have dozens of Aurors and hit-wizards licensed to kill. Perhaps we   
should bring more force with us, maybe we could…"  
Voldemort again cut him off, speaking in a tone that carried with it an extreme amount of scorn   
and pity. "Even Barty Crouch is not that cunning," Voldemort hissed, "No one but us knows we are here or   
what our mission is, my friend. Or is it that you really think that you are smarter than your master. Or   
maybe you are just a self-centered pathetic cowardly fool?"  
Perhaps Lucius was about to respond, or perhaps he was shocked into silence. His mouth worked   
shapes while his body quivered in rage or fear-perhaps both. He had still not responded when, suddenly, a   
street lamp that had previously been off awoke with a hum and a snap. Pale yellow light washed out to   
brighten the alley, though not by much. Both of the Dark wizards sharply responded, pulling wands out of   
deep pockets. However, they were not fast enough.  
"STUPIFY!" a voice cried out, and immediately a crimson burst of light shot out of the shadows   
that the light had not reached. It slammed into Lucius and cast him to the ground before he had time even to   
cry out. Voldemort spun around, seeking the source of the words. Evidentially whoever had fired the spell   
off had confidence in his hiding place, for he spoke out in calm, modulated tones;  
"Ironic, Voldemort, that your servant was actually half right. No, there is no army protecting the   
Potters-they don't even know that you are coming. But I did. And I swore that I would fight evil wherever I   
found it. And I found you and him plotting dark murder…ironic indeed. However low your opinion of him   
is, Dumbledore has been reading the signs. He made sure I was ready to face you. Tonight, here, you will   
die.'  
Voldemort fired off several bolts of light, sending crate and garbage can fragments spraying all   
over the alley but finding no one. "An Auror, then, is it?" he sneered, "Perhaps even Alastor Moody   
himself. Well done. Well done indeed. But it is you who will die tonight. No one has yet to face me and   
live to tell about it…if you want to try to be the first be my guest." He smiled again, and his red eyes   
burned with incredible intensity. "No Auror will ever get me."  
"Good, for I am not an Auror," this time, the controlled voice carried a hint of a smile, "I am the   
Knight of Gryffindor, protector of good and vanquisher of evil wherever it is. No Knight has ever failed in   
his task for the past 400 years, Voldemort, and I don't intend to be the first. If you think that you will   
remain victorious nonetheless then TECHTONICUS!" he cried out the spell in midsentance. Suddenly, the   
ground beneath the Dark Lord shook and suddenly split in two, nearly swallowing him with it. The Knight   
of Gryffindor jumped down from his vantage point on top of a nearby building and thrust his wand again at   
Voldemort, crying "STUPIFY" once again.   
Voldemort, however, was not to be taken by surprise so easily. He quickly flicked his wand at the   
oncoming red bolt, causing it to erupt into a shower of red sparks. Eyes sparkling like burgundy lightning,   
he hit the Knight with the Cruatius curse. If it had any effect, the Knight did not show it; instead he laughed   
contemptuously. "These robes have been passed down for generations, Voldemort. They have an incredibly   
resistance to spells, even the Unforgivable Curses. And if you thought I was unprepared for this fight, you   
are as sorely mistaken as the fools that follow you."   
Cautiously, they circled each other, weary of the wand the opposite held. Again Voldemort took   
the offensive, hissing "Ampherion". A bolt of lightning shot out of his wand, only to be countered by a   
giant gold hand conjured in mid-air. Smirking, the Knight chirped several times, as if he were a bird.   
Voldemort frowned, but suddenly understood as dozens of pigeons swooped down on him and pecked   
furiously. Bellowing "TEMPESTUS" he summoned a giant gust of wind that swept most of them into the   
alley walls and into the night sky. Taking their place, however, a giant scarlet bird that was surrounded by   
an eerie sort of pipe music dove out of the sky and slashed viciously at Voldemort's face. He tried to blast   
it away with the Tempest curse as well, but it was far too strong both in the muscle and magically.   
"A phoenix," he snarled. "Probably your familiar, am I right? I forgot you could talk to birds…it does not   
matter." With this cryptic note, he spoke with hisses and gargles, sounding very much like he was choking   
to death. At the sound, an enormous snake conjured from his wand leapt out and ensnared the phoenix,   
forcing it to climb higher and try to shake it off. The act must have distracted the Dark Lord, however,   
because the next minute his wand was Transfigured by the Knight into a snarling gerbil that sunk it's sharp   
little teeth into this finger.  
Screaming incoherently, he seized the rodent and, in a cerulean flash, reverted it to his wand. "NO   
MORE GAMES!" he shrieked, and whispered, deadly cold, "Arvada Kedarva". Opposite him, his   
opponent cried the same words. Both immediately swore and jumped out of the way. Voldemort's spell hit   
the pile of trash cans behind the Knight, sending red-hot shrapnel straight into the prostate figure. The other   
green jet of light streaked through the alley and slammed into a parked car, sending it roaring off in an   
enormous explosion that flipped the car several times before sending it flying into a nearby building.   
Imperious to the destruction wreaked behind him, Voldemort studied the burned, bloody figure of the   
Knight of Gryffindor. He had fought well…and lost anyway. Even so, Voldemort could feel that his powers   
had been drained significantly by this battle, and decided to end it NOW. Smiling that same predatory, cold   
smile, he send beam after beam of purple light into the nearest building, exploding bricks and cement, and   
sending tons of rubble cascading on top of the unconscious warrior.   
"Time for my true business of the night," he snarled, not even bothering to waken Lucius, who   
was still out cold, "That poor fool got what he deserved…and hopefully another reminder to the wizarding   
world that I am supreme." With this said, he laughed as if in hysteria, highly pitched and evil, before   
slinking away in the flickering shadows caused by the massive fire the exploding car had started.   
"AHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOO!" Antioch Hodge dove for the wand on his bedside table, using   
it to slam his door shut and powerfully locked before he realized that wasn't real. He HAD somehow   
survived being buried by tons of rubble and debris, dragging himself out of the ruin seconds before the   
Muggles descended on it. Despite his best efforts, Voldemort had escaped…killed his friend James…and   
been killed by his own arrogance. Ironically indeed, his losing battle with Voldemort had actually sapped   
his power enough that he hadn't managed to overwhelm the old magic his mother had given the boy in her   
sacrifice. And now that Voldemort was back in power, the dreams were more and more frequent…and   
worse and worse. Antioch knew that this time, the Dark Lord would not waste time with a campaign of   
terror. He would instead go straight after a bastion of stability and power-Hogwarts Castle. Which, of   
course, was why he would be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Where he would teach the   
son of a man he had failed. Where Voldemort would fall with full force. He had to teach the school how to   
defend itself. It would not be easy. But it would be better than facing Voldemort again with his best friend's   
life on the line.  



End file.
